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 Man wants but little here below,
 Nor wants that little long.  
 Man wants but little here below,
 Nor wants that little long. 
 "Man wants but little here below
 Nor wants that little long,"
  'Tis not with me exactly so;
read more 
 "Man wants but little here below
 Nor wants that little long,"
  'Tis not with me exactly so;
   But 'tis so in the song.
    My wants are many, and, if told,
     Would muster many a score;
      And were each wish a mint of gold,
       I still should long for more. 
 Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious and free,
 First flower of the earth, and first gem read more 
 Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious and free,
 First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea. 
 What one has wished for in youth, in old age one has in 
abundance.
 [Ger., Was man in read more 
 What one has wished for in youth, in old age one has in 
abundance.
 [Ger., Was man in der Jugend wunscht, hat man im Alter die 
Fulle.] 
 Little I ask; my wants are few;
 I only wish a hut of stone
  (A very plain read more 
 Little I ask; my wants are few;
 I only wish a hut of stone
  (A very plain brown stone will do),
   That I may call my own;
    And close at hand is such a one
     In yonder street that fronts the sun. 
 He calls his wish, it comes; he sends it back,
 And says he called another; that arrives,
  read more 
 He calls his wish, it comes; he sends it back,
 And says he called another; that arrives,
  Meets the same welcome; yet he still calls on;
   Till one calls him, who varies not his call,
    But holds him fast, in chains of darkness bound,
     Till Nature dies, and judgment sets him free;
      A freedom far less welcome than this chain. 
 Every wish
 Is like a prayer--with God.  
 Every wish
 Is like a prayer--with God. 
He that humbleth himself wishes to be exalted
He that humbleth himself wishes to be exalted
 If I live to grow old, as I find I go down,
 Let this be my fate in a read more 
 If I live to grow old, as I find I go down,
 Let this be my fate in a country town;
  May I have a warm house, with a stone at my gate,
   And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate.
    May I govern my passions with an absolute sway,
     Grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
      Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
   - Walter Pope, The Old Man's Wish,